Beautiful Indifference
by verita dea
Summary: She was created in a desperate attempt to save himself from grief. She was programmed to know everything, to function and live like a human being. She was never meant to feel.
1. Emergence

Artemis sat on the edge of his seat, his face so close to the computer screen that he could see the hundreds of pixels on the monitor. His fingers tingled with the excitement of discovery, the heady sensation of accomplishing something that no one in the world has ever done before. It had been challenging of course, he hadn't experienced anything as remotely frustrating since he decrypted the Gnomish tongue, all those years ago. This project had required all his knowledge on cloning and robotic technology, not to mention a tonne of information picked up from his escapades with the fairy people.

_If only you could see me now, Minerva._

The sound of bubbling caught Artemis' attention, and he swivelled his chair from the computer screen. The room was cluttered with machines, all humming with tireless efficiency, all necessary for the development of the project. His eyes came to rest on the glass cylinder in the middle of the room. It was life sized, containing the body of a girl. For the past year, it had shown no signs of movement, no signs of life. Perhaps the sound had been the product of his imagination.

But no, there it was again. With a minute parting of her lips, a tiny stream of bubbles shot towards the surface of the water.

She was waking up.

Artemis could feel his heart pounding as he turned round again to type a short command into the computer. Immediately, the water in the tube began to drain and the girl inhaled a great, shuddering breath. Her eyes snapped open and her arms wrapped themselves instinctively around herself.

_So far, so good. _Artemis thought to himself as the door of the cylinder swung open, and the girl clumsily stepped out. He gave her a towel, which she wrapped around herself methodically. Artemis waited for the shivering to stop, before tilting her chin up.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked softly.

Her blank eyes just stared back at him. A flicker of doubt crossed Artemis' mind. Surely he had made no mistakes? He had been so careful, so thorough. Theoretically, all should be well. He placed his hands on her shoulders and gripped them tightly. Her eyes widened in response to the pressure, but still, they betrayed no sign of thought. It was just as Artemis was beginning to feel the pang of disappointment, that she spoke.

"Artemis Fowl II." Her reply came out in a throaty monotone. Despite the coarseness of her voice, it awakened memories Artemis did not want to deal with.

"What are the first five elements on the periodic table?" Artemis queried.

The girl's mouth opened hesitantly. "Hydrogen. Helium. Lithium. Berylium. Boron."

Good. One more easy question. "What is the square root of 196 multiplied by two and divided by seven?"

"Four," she answered, her voice now stronger.

Artemis exhaled a sigh of relief. Her mind was sound. "Excellent."

* * *

_When people think of birth, they think of babies and the promise of the future. Of beginnings. People have the benefit of ignorance; they spend the first years of their life just enjoying it. They don't have to worry about what's to come, and even when they do they embrace it like a new adventure. Their reason to live is to find one._

_I came into the world, mentally mature with my physical age not so far behind. I stepped onto that wooden floor, hair dripping wet and breathing on my own for the first time. Each experience was a new one, the feel of the downy towel on my skin; the draught that came through the window, accentuating the chilly night. The heat of his hands as they clutched my shoulders in a sort of desperation. But there was no wonder in feeling these sensations. He had not made me that way. I had knowledge long before I had opened my eyes and inhaled my first breath, I was capable of thought before he led me out into the world. Everything was already known to me and there wasn't much room left for new discovery. Already, I had fulfilled my purpose. I was a living testament to his genius._

_So what more was there for me to do?_


	2. Qualia

The amber liquid gently lapped against the side of the cup as the girl raised it to her lips. It was a bitter drink. As she swallowed, she could feel its burning path down her throat, leaving her tongue feeling rather dry. She took another sip, this one tasted marginally better, then set the cup down.

"Well?"

Artemis watched the girl from across the table, pen poised over the notebook in his hand, ready to record the final result in a series of experiments. He needn't have worried; he had made no mistakes with her.

"Bitter." He scrawled her answer. "Leaves one feeling parched."

He nodded. "And what was the beverage?"

"Beer."

"Excellent, excellent," he murmured. He looked up at the girl again. "What did you think of it?"

"I thought it was bitter."

He waved away her answer. "No. What did you think of it? Did you like it?"

"I don't know," she replied with one of her blank stares. "Was I supposed to like it?"

Artemis sighed. "No no. Never mind." He shut the book with a snap then leaned back into his chair, observing the girl intently. She was sitting so still that she could've been a statue, her expression was vacant as usual. One would almost think that she was bored, if she were capable of that. He had to remind himself that she was a clone; of course indifference was to be expected. He tucked the pen into his pocket and stood.

"Have you any questions for me?"

She surprised him by giving a slow nod. "You have programmed me, correct?"

"Correct," he inclined his head.

"The knowledge you have bestowed upon me is practically yours then."

"Naturally."

"Then why ask for my opinion?" she queried. "When it is most likely to be yours?"

His lip quirked up in the corner. "No opinion is likely to be all our own, since they are derived from what other people tell us and experience. Our opinions are shared. You have no reason to reject my opinions because they are perfectly sound and reasonable to you."

"According to the logic and reason that you have given me," she pointed out. "Which are both yours. Those were also derived from _your _experiences. I have no experiences of my own to rely on, so therefore, I cannot form my own opinion."

He was silent for a long time, contemplating what she had said. "Would you drink it again?"

The statement seemed irrelevant, but he would not have asked if there had not been a point. "No."

"And why is that?"

"I felt uncomfortable when I drank it."

"Which means that you disliked it," he withdrew the notebook from his breastpocket and began writing again. "Was this thought influenced by what knowledge you had already?"

"No."

"Precisely. It was an opinion derived from your own experience. You are not me. You don't taste things the same way I do; we don't perceive things in the exact same way, which allows for deviance in opinion. In a word you are," there was a fleeting smile, "unique. The knowledge you have may influence your opinion, but it is not the sole reason _for _your opinion."

He was still writing across the page, as rapid as his thoughts, when he heard her soft voice again. "I want to experience something that is all my own." At Artemis' quizzical glance, she elaborated. "I could predict that I would find the beverage distasteful, from the information you've given me," she tapped her temple lightly, "which, like you've confirmed, come from your own experiences. But what of opinions borne from emotion, like hating someone out of jealousy? I want a feeling that is completely...mine. A first hand experience." She looked up from her cup and stared at him. For a moment, he saw someone else. Another girl, who looked exactly the same, who always had that glint in her eye that challenged him to be someone different. But then he blinked and she was just the expressionless clone once more.

"I want to be able to form an opinion from one of my experiences, not one of yours," she continued. "Is it possible? For me to experience something you never have? To feel... emotion?"

_No. It's not. You're unnatural, an abomination to nature in the eyes of some of the world. _The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he stopped himself from saying them. To do so was to admit that he couldn't meet the challenge. But what more could he do? Apart from the ability to learn, he had not been able to give her any human characteristics, and those were little use when she possessed the knowledge that he gave her. There was nothing lacking, except for that dead look in her eyes.

And there lay the answer

Standing abruptly from his chair, he gestured for her to follow. Yes, he had given her everything. Life, knowledge, wisdom. Only time would tell if he could play God and give her a soul.

* * *

_Science has an explanation for everything; there are no such things as miracles. It's an empty study, one that turns every phenomenom into the mediocre and material. The world was created from a coincidental chemical reaction. Humans and animals are only pawns in the game for survival, which is based on natural instinct. Emotions are the result of hormonal and chemical functions in the body. Yet, I could not believe that last statement, after what Artemis had shown me. Emotion went deeper than any scientific explanation, it came from the spirit. Science belied the concept of the spirit. Science told me that it was impossible for me to feel, being what I was._

_But Science was wrong._


	3. Phenomenology

Holly Short wasn't one who liked surprises. Which was why the few LEP workers who were unfortunate enough to be forced into overtime kept their heads down as she burst into the building. She simmered straight into Foaly's department, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she stormed across the floor.

"This better not be one of your paranoia attacks," she grumbled to the centaur.

"You'll find that it's not," Foaly replied, swivelling his chair around to face her. He gestured to the computer behind him. "Something came up on the tracker."

Holly was immediately alert. "Are you sure?"

"How often am I wrong?"

Holly drew closer to the computer screen, her eyes analysing the co-ordinates. "How did they manage to elude you for this long?"

Foaly let out a dry chuckle. "Their technology was so obselete that nothing I had picked it up. But I tweaked a few things and voila. There they are. Not so inconspicuous after all. I bet you could track them down in a matter of minutes from E8, or E1 for that matter."

The question lay thick behind the thin layer of words. Holly sighed. "It might be a mistake to tell him."

"You promised."

"I know I did," Holly said uneasily. "But you didn't see him, Foaly. He's still an explosion waiting to happen."

Foaly shrugged. "He still has a right to know."

* * *

The train compartment was stuffy, heavy with humidity and the stale smell that was present when you had a crowd of people packaged into a small room. There were businessmen, their ties in pockets, top buttons undone; there were school children, inconsiderately leaving their bags in the packed aisles. Artemis hated such situations; the confinement of his breathing and the invasion of his personal space. The graffitied walls and dirty seats of the train irked him. Even worse was the fact that it was Valentine's Day; there were couples swooning everywhere. But these were the ideal circumstances for human observation.

"Now, what do you see?" Artemis asked.

The girl beside him scanned the room briefly. "Seats. Windows. Vandalism-"

Artemis shook his head. "Look at that girl in the corner, at the far end of the carriage. What do you see?"

She brushed a blonde lock from her eyes. "She's wearing a blue uniform, a high school student from St. Ignatius. Her hair has been dyed strawberry blonde. There is an iPod video and a decrepit copy of _Jane Eyre _resting on her folder."

"Take a look at her face," Artemis prompted. "What sort of person do you think she is, how do you think she's feeling?"

The girl glanced at Artemis. "I would not know, I have never met her. I have no knowledge of her personality."

"You know the rudimentary ideas," Artemis said. "There are the basics, a smile is linked to happiness, pleasure. A frown, to sadness, anger, consternation. There's the style in which one dresses. There are the idiosyncrasies, little habits that betray the personality, such as continuously checking one's pocket, or fiddling with one's necklace. Projections of the subconscious. Now, look again."

The girl paused, then began slowly. "She is laughing. Amused at what her companions are saying. Her tie remains intact as opposed to those of her peers," she turned to Artemis. "An indication of her respect for her school and rules?"

Artemis smiled. "Perhaps, perhaps not. Most likely yes, I'd say she's also Type A by the way she arranges her folder and its contents to match up perfectly every time the train jolts. What do you think is her story?"

"Story?" the girl repeated.

"Yes, her background, what she likes to do."

The girl glanced back at him. "How will I know if I am correct?"

"You won't," Artemis admitted, "this is a subjective analysis. Considering that all you know is from an objective view point, this will be rather interesting."

The girl was silent for a while, her gaze blankly staring out the window at the scenery flying past, blurring into a swirl of indiscernible colours and shapes. Perhaps that in itself was an aid for her contemplation. It would be quite a development. At last, she spoke.

"She comes from a fairly rich family, she enjoys reading classic novels from the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries..." she stared at the other girl a while longer. "She's not very happy. The smiles seem rather superficial. She sits a little apart from her friends and keeps frowning as she gazes out the window. There is something bothering her, perhaps a problem at home."

"Good," Artemis acknowledged quietly. He hadn't expected the observation on loneliness.

The two sat in companionable silence, Artemis leaving the girl to continue her scrutiny of the other passengers. She took note of everything; the business man scowling as the boy beside him played loud pop music. Exasperation. The girl grimacing at the boy who imitated the sound made at the expulsion of gas. Disgust. They were five stations away from their desired destination, when the girl gently pulled on Artemis' sleeve.

"What of them? Can you give them a story?" she asked, subtly gesturing across the aisle.

Artemis turned, following the girl's gaze to land on one of the couples. They were not embracing as some others were, nor were they talking. But they were a couple nevertheless, their hands linked discreetly in the peripherals of the vision. They glanced at each other, blushing when their eyes met. When one moved, the other unconsciously shifted, their bodies somehow in synced in a way that no one else's were. There was an understated intensity there, a quiet radiance of something he himself once had. Artemis looked away, the girl beside him waiting expectantly.

"They're in love," Artemis said, face expressionless. "They have been involved for a while now, perhaps two years or so. They keep their relationship quiet and don't enjoy blatant displays of affection."

"How can you tell?" the girl queried.

"Well..." he faltered as they rose, standing to alight from the train. Love, a concept that those with the most eloquent vocabulary failed to adequately describe. Perhaps there lay the problem, in trying to reduce it to words . "It's something you just know. Something instinctive. And you'll know because it's something you've never felt before."

"But Artemis," the girl said, her tone devoid of any irony or emotion whatsoever. "I haven't felt _anything _before."

* * *

_That afternoon in the carriage was one of enlightenment. Every person had their own unique language, a code of their own, a way of telling the world about themselves and the way they felt. Each gesture had a meaning, every look was a sentence of its own. There were synonyms in hand movements, there were adjectives in smiles. There were oxymorons in the way that a person said one thing and meant another. Some were easy to comprehend, simple and uncomplicated. Others were as difficult to read as the Voynich Manuscript._

_Artemis was one of them. _

_I had learned to analyse those around me, to be sensitive to how they were feeling, to notice every subtle change in mood and what was affecting them. With Artemis it was harder. He hardly ever gave anything away, but I was patient. I began to notice the way his voice would rise a semi-tone in pitch when he was on the verge of discovery, the charged quality in silence when he was thinking.The way he'd frown when he was scheming. When he was pleased, the corner of his mouth would twitch upwards ever so slightly. And there was that expression that came over his face, the one that was a blend of every emotion imaginable, the one I could not name. I watched him constantly, analysing, comparing, always attentive to his every act. _

_I had been his project, but now he was mine._


	4. Patented

Updated AN in profile

Butler stood in front of the large, iron cabinet, doubt staying his hand from unlocking it. Artemis had asked him to take out the artillery, to assemble the various guns and weapons so that _she _could have a look. All for the sake of science, Artemis had said, just to evaluate the scope of her knowledge. But he was up to something else, Butler was sure of it. He only hoped that the boy wouldn't try anything reckless. Re-awakened grief could do that to a person.

He replaced the magazine of one gun and picked up a sword. It needed to be polished. He frowned as he brought a cloth up and down the blade. Artemis was more than just his charge, that was something he acknowledged long ago. To broach the subject of the girl was... risky. It needed to be handled delicately, if not at all. Butler sighed and turned the blade over, catching his reflection in its steel. It _was _his place to interfere. His responsibility as a bodyguard encompassed defending Artemis against all dangers; including himself. But how to go about it?

"Butler."

He swung round at the sound of his name, grip automatically shifting to hold the sword in fighting position. There was no one there.

"It's just me." Holly shimmered into view, her nose just a centimetre away from the tip of the sword.

"Holly!" Butler abruptly dropped the sword, stepping forward to draw the elf into a bear hug. "I must be getting old, I didn't even hear you."

"You looked pretty preoccupied," Holly replied with a weak smile. Butler released the elf and took a step back.

"I didn't know you were coming," he frowned. "Does Artemis know you're here?"

Holly hesitated. "No, he doesn't. How is he?"

"Well, better than before," Butler admitted. "But there's something- I think you should talk to him."

"Why? What's wrong?" Holly's brows knitted together as she followed Butler out the door. Something was amiss; Butler was anxious about something. They abruptly stopped in front of a pair of double doors and Butler turned the knob.

"You'll see."

* * *

The keys of the piano offered little resistance as Artemis' fingers swept down the octave, moving with a grace and agility that any concert pianist would admire. There was no room for thought in his head, save that of music. He closed his eyes and imagined he was in Carnegie Hall; the Isaac Stern Auditorium. The sound would be richer there, more mellow; more haunting as it echoed against the walls of the room. He exhaled as he began his cadenza, completing fourteen note runs down the piano; falling to the floor like a scattering of shattered glass. He played a succession of rolled chords and they sung like a glissando. A smile graced his features. He loved cadenzas. He opened his eyes, adjusting his vision back to the here and now as he played that final chord. For a blessed quarter hour, he'd forgotten where he was, the last year of despondency. He had even forgotten the girl sitting beside him, watching unblinking.

"Can you name that piece?" Artemis asked softly.

The girl nodded. "Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1 in B flat minor."

"Good," Artemis said approvingly, closing the lid of the piano. "One day I'll take you to see a concert; it sounds rather more expressive with the support of an orchestra."

"Could you play it again?"

Artemis started, head jerking up to scrutinise the girl beside him. Her blonde curls hid her eyes from view; was it possible that the blank mien was giving way to expression?

"Why?" Artemis queried.

She didn't look up. "I enjoyed it. I'd like to listen to it once more. If you don't mind."

Before Artemis could oblige her, the door swung open. They both looked up as Butler entered, his face unreadable.

"There's someone here to see you, Artemis," he said simply.

Artemis was about to deliver a few cutting comments when Holly stepped forward from behind Butler. A series of emotions flitted rapidly across her face; genuine warmth, apprehension, then aghast shock as her gaze settled on the other girl in the room.

"_Min-_"

"Butler," Artemis spoke over her, recovering from the initial surprise at seeing the elf. "Could you please escort..." he gestured to the girl beside him. "Could you please show her the ammunition now?"

Butler simply jerked his head, an indication for her to follow. Holly watched as the girl stood from the piano seat, leaving the room without a backward glance. As soon as the door slammed, Holly wheeled round. A thousand words fought for priority on the tip of her tongue, but all that came out was a choked sound of disbelief.

"Holly," Artemis inclined his head, signaling for the elf to take a seat. "To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure? Not that it isn't unwelcome, but some foreknowledge would have been-"

"Artemis," Holly firmly cut him off. "Would you care to explain?"

"Explain what?"

"Don't play stupid with me," she said sharply. "Tell me why I just saw a girl who looks exactly like your dead fiancée in this room not two minutes ago."

A flicker of hurt flashed in Artemis' eyes and Holly immediately felt guilty. Her voice softened. "Artemis, did you _clone _her?"

He laughed, a laugh with no humour in it at all. "No. She's not a clone, per se. I won't go into details about how it was done. You wouldn't understand any of it."

Holly scowled, then shook her head. "What are you doing to yourself, Artemis? Are you trying to avoid getting some closure? It wasn't fair, what happened to her... but copying her isn't going to bring her back."

"You think I don't know that?" Artemis said harshly, standing from his chair. "Do you have any clue what it feels like? To have someone snatch away your future to make a _statement, _one that wasn't even intended for either of us? Damn it Holly, I had just propsed to her, we were ecstatic! So don't you dare talk to me about getting _closure_."

"You're not the only one who lost someone that day," Holly whispered shakily.

Artemis slowed his breathing, then shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said, sitting back down, his tone becoming deadpan. "I needed a project to keep myself in check. This seemed the safest one, seeing as I was completely useless trying to track down the people responsible for the explosion."

Holly faltered, then spoke before she could regret her decision. "I have something to tell you. But promise me you'll leave it up to the LEP to take action."

"What?" Artemis breathed. "What, you found them?"

The elf bowed her head and nodded near imperceptibly.

Artemis stood again, putting himself directly in Holly's line of vision. "Where are they, Holly?"

"Promise me you won't do anything."

"I can't," Artemis murmured. "Tell me, Holly. You can trust me."

"Can I really?" she shot back bleakly. "I gave you space, like you told me to, and you ended up cloning or recreating her, or whatever it was you did."

"I have a right to know. You know I do," he said smoothly. "It was meant for the LEP and happened at my expense. If that isn't enough, you promised."

Holly sighed. "Amalgam Subversives."

"What?"

"That's all I'll be telling you," Holly said quietly. The band at her wrist began to flash an urgent red and she looked up at Artemis. "I have to go."

Artemis smiled wryly. "It was good to see you again. Pity we didn't get enough time to catch up properly. Let me know when you'll drop in next time."

"Take care of yourself."

Holly exited the room, passing Butler in the hallway on her way out. "Don't let him get into trouble," she muttered. The manservant nodded in reply, then entered the room. Artemis was leaning against the piano, one hand over his face.

"Send her back in," he said without looking up.

Butler pursed his lips, then went to find the girl. She walked into the room and took a seat by the window, watching as Artemis closed the door behind Butler. He turned around, his expression completely calm.

"I expect you know who and what our visitor was?" he said evenly.

"An elf, one of the Lower Elements Police," the girl murmured softly.

Artemis smiled bitterly. "And I suppose you have questions for me?"

The girl nodded. "Yes. I do."

"Well then, ask away."

She shifted in her seat, smoothing out her skirt. "May I have a name?"

"_What?_" for the second time that day, she had taken him aback. Of all the things to ask, why this? "What name would you have for yourself."

"I don't know, what name would you have for me?"

Artemis closed his eyes. A name. What would be fitting? His mind trawled through the various words in his head, the millions of stories behind each one. At last, he found one. "How about Galatea?

The girl was silent for a moment. Then, ever so slowly, she began to smile for the first time. Artemis tried to keep the shock from his face as he spoke.

"Galatea it is then."

* * *

_The day of Holly Short's visit was an opening into Artemis' soul._

_He is a sight to behold when he's at the piano. Not only because his skill is beyond the virtuosic, but because of what you see on his face. It's completely peaceful, not neutral exactly, but he seems almost content when he's playing. It's as though he ventures into another place entirely, he's somewhere that grants him a temporary state of nirvana._

_I wanted to see him play again, if only for that superficial shadow of peace that he felt. I learned later why he did not do so immediately, unlike his usual response for my other requests. It was one of _her _favourite songs. I only learned that later, courtesy of Holly Short. _

_Encountering Holly for the first time was a discovery in itself. I knew what she was of course, an elf, an underground inhabitant. A species yet undiscovered by the rest of the world. But she looked at me in astonishment, she called me by a name I did not recognise, not in all the bounty of knowledge Artemis had programmed into me. _

_For the first time, it occurred to me that I did not know everything he did._

_Later, when he sent for me, I chose not to question him. I would not let him think that I was in the least bit curious; I did not want his careful and evasive answers. Instead, I asked for a name. I wonder why I never thought to ask for one before, or indeed, why he had never given me one. Perhaps he saw it as a form of attachment, perhaps he wanted to keep the illusion that one day I'd become the one he lost. The name he chose is even more of a surprise; Galatea. The creation of Pygmalion, the statue he fell in love with. _

_Given the events that would transpire, the irony would not be lost on me._


	5. Unsolicited Aid

Updated AN in profile

* * *

Saxe was positioned near the warehouse door, his head leaning back against the wall, arms folded over his chest in a pose that was deceptively relaxed and nonchalant. Despite the fact that it was almost pitch black, he could hear Claire pacing erratically, her stilettos nervously scuffing the cement floor. Saxe snorted. Humans could be so damn annoying when they were paranoid.

"Give it a rest," he muttered in an amused tone.

She stopped prowling. Saxe could feel her glaring through the darkness. "Peri, is there anything coming up on the comp?"

A sigh came from the other end of the room. "No, Claire. There hasn't been anything at all since the last time you asked. Which was only an hour ago."

"How about the Morse? Haven't any instructions come in from-"

"This is getting old, Claire," Saxe interrupted lazily. "If there were any directions left, they would have been delivered to _me_."

"Was the nitro-glycerine bomb included in your directions?" Claire demanded sharply.

It took a few seconds for Saxe to understand the subtle accusation. "I thought we went over this," his voice menacing. "What was not to understand?"

"It was unnecessary," Claire insisted.

Saxe gritted his teeth. "Like I said, I thought we'd already discussed this. It was standard procedure under the circumstances, eliminate anyone who was stupid enough to try and stop the go ahead."

"This was different," Claire said unsteadily. "She would have gone if you'd let her. She didn't really know anything."

"Paradizo was a threat," Saxe retorted dismissively. "Whatever she knew, she would have eventually told Fowl, and you know how tight he is with the LEP. She needed to go. I don't care how great a friend she was."

"But-"

"Are you trying to tell me you're no longer dedicated to the cause?"

Saxe began to saunter towards Claire and she swallowed as he approached. "No! I'm just-"

"And need I remind you," he continued softly, "who pulled the trigger? You remember that, don't you? Do you remember who shot their friend then blew them to pieces?"

Claire paled. "It-"

"You guys!" Peri snapped. "We have to get out of here, quick."

Saxe took a step back and glanced at Peri. He'd almost forgotten the pixie was in the room. "What is it?"

"We've been pinged. Twice."

* * *

The neat lines of text rolled down the screen, a thousand black pixels forming words, sentences, paragraphs. It was all useless, but Artemis remained at the computer for hours. The words played in his head over and over; _Amalgam Subversives, Amalgam Subversives_. It had finally been a name to put to the murderers; prey to hunt. The fervent desire for vengeance had been dormant for a while now; his hopelessness and Galatea had ensured that. But now he had a clue, something more than blind rage to follow.

If only his results would lead to someone substantial enough to kill.

Artemis closed his eyes and turned away from the computer. He wasn't approaching this systematically enough. He inhaled deeply. What was it that Holly had told him the night of the incident? A huge explosion, a crude gnomish message in blood left for the LEP. No one at the scene of the crime.

But now he had their name.

Amalgam Subversives. Amalgam. By definition it was a combination. Subversives, anyone determined to overthrow a government or institution. Artemis rubbed his temples. Rebels, most likely planning to overturn the LEP. Perhaps it was time he took an interest in the political affairs of the underground. He needed to know about anything on the fairy news, anything in the LEP database that could give him more information on who exactly was responsible for his fiancée's murder. It would be hard; Foaly would be keeping a close eye on his activities and Holly would have a fit if she knew what he intended to do. But he needed an LEP source. Pity that his improvised bug on the LEP network broke down after downloading that information for Galatea-

Artemis' eyes snapped open.

It was a slight chance; but it would do. He leaned forward and pressed the button on the intercom. "Butler?"

The manservant's voice replied immediately. "Yes sir?"

Artemis thought he could detect a hint of resentment on the title but he let it go. "Could you-"

There was a rapping on the door behind him and Artemis swivelled round. "Never mind, Butler."

The door swung open and Galatea entered, a tray of food in her hands. She set it by Artemis and took a step back, staring dazedly at the laptop screen. He wondered if she would make any comment, if maybe the words would trigger a recall of knowledge pulled from the depths of the LEP database.

"You should eat," she said finally, turning to leave.

"Wait," Artemis shut the lid of the laptop and swivelled round. "I'd like to talk to you."

Galatea tilted her head. It was the only indication of her interest. "Yes?"

"You're aware that when I programmed you," he began, "I not only downloaded information from the human domain, but from the fairy realm as well?"

"Of course." Galatea paused. "Is there something in the LEP records you would like to know about?"

Artemis nodded. "Yes. Tell me anything you can dredge up about the Amalgam Subversives."

Galatea frowned delicately. Artemis could imagine the electric impulse currents travelling along her nerves, her rapid thought as she trawled through the confines of her memory. Eventually, her brow cleared. "The Amalgam Subversives. A revolution movement consisting of both humans and fairies dedicated to establishing a link between both worlds. They aim to reveal the underground existence of the fairies to the human world and maintain peaceful co-existence."

"And the LEP weren't too pleased with that," Artemis murmured.

"The goal of the Amalgam Subversives is considered heretical," Galatea continued softly. "It breaches the rules written in the Book."

Completely understandable, but what did any of it have to do with Minerva? Artemis leaned forward. "An incident occurred on the seventh of January, last year, linked to the Amalgam Subversives. Can you tell me the names of those involved?"

Galatea shook her head. "The LEP archives contain no names of their members to date."

Artemis sighed, trying to quell the rising disappointment. "What about their whereabouts?"

"Nothing whatsoever."

Artemis pursed his lips and opened the lap top again. He was back to square one; frustrated and desperate. But he wouldn't surrender that easily; he would see this through, no matter how long it took him. He began typing again, resolute on finding the bastards and avenging Minerva.

"I'm sorry."

He hadn't remembered Galatea was still in the room, not until she'd already gone; her whispered apology echoing in his ears.

* * *

_Lying is a curious ability._

_It's a form of manipulation, a traitorous method of meeting one's own ends. I'd lied to Artemis, and I'll admit that I am uncertain as to why I did. It had been imperative at the time, though that seems a weak excuse. I'd been keeping a closer eye on him after Holly Short's visit. He'd often lapse into brooding silences, when spoken to his answers were vague and distracted. He was not entirely unaware of Butler's concern or my appraising glances. He began to withdraw, shutting himself up in his study and keeping contact to the bare minimum. I will own that, had my emotional capacity been more complex and developed, I would have been affronted. I had not been accustomed to anything more than Artemis' constant companionship; his sudden neglect meant I was left to my own non existent devices or the disapproving glares of the manservant._

_It was the closest, I suppose, I'd ever come to what humans would call worry. _

_I wanted him to stop, for him to go back to his usual wry and knowing demeanour. It didn't take too long to track down the source of his problems, I knew it had something to do with the elf and the girl she had mistook me for. I still didn't have her name, I realised this was because Artemis had eliminated all mention of her once he'd finished programming me. But I found what he was looking for. _

_Amalgam Subversives. _

_The day he quizzed me on the Amalgam Subversives was the first time we'd spoken in more than a week. By that time I had all the answers _he_ sought. Of course I knew who the members of the Amalgam Subversives were. I had been one step ahead; I'd even tracked down their location. But the lies slipped easily off my tongue. It was easy enough, he was already preoccupied. He had called me with the inkling that any LEP information I possessed was obselete. Doubt can be a devious obstacle to the truth. Perhaps if he were thinking clearly, he'd have been able to see through my deceit. Perhaps I shouldn't have lied to him, perhaps it wasn't wise to stand in the way of a vendetta. But to me, it was justified. It wouldn't have been prudent to tell him any of it. The mere thought of revenge had made him anti-social, whatever I'd have to tell him would only intensify his desire for retribution. The solution was clear to me._

_If I wanted him to revert to normal, I'd have to deal with the problem for him. _


	6. Revelation

Holly landed behind a towering cargo crate, her mechanical wings folding with a soft click. Light gleamed through the windows of the warehouse, dangerous eyes warning anyone stupid enough to leave be. Despite the enormity of the situation, Holly couldn't help scoffing to herself. A warehouse, of all places. How cliched could they possibly get? Then again, conspicuousness thus far, had proven their best disguse. She brought her wrist up to her mouth, glancing around her furtively.

"In position. Going in," she whispered. Her gaze swept up and down the warehouse again. "Are you sure this is the place?"

She heard Foaly's faint snort of indignation in the background. "What do you take me for? An a-"

Commander Kelp's voice cut the centaur off. "It's the place all right." His tone changed. "It's been a while since you've done simple recon Holly, and that's all I want you to do. So don't try anything stupid, ok?"

"Relax," she muttered. The thought of returning to Artemis with news of a failed arrest was enough to keep her mind on the job. She shielded as she drew closer. The building was too dilapitated to have any proper security systems; Holly wondered at their arrogance. They were relying so heavily on the fact that they would be overestimated.

She circuited the warehouse warily, checking the monitor of her heat sensor, when it began to flash erratically. She was about to send a silent message to headquarters: _there's someone here_, when a figure emerged from behind a corner.

"_You?"_ Holly hissed incredulously tightening her grip on her neutrino. The girl raised her hands slowly in surrender.

"Yes, me. I tracked the subversives here but they were long gone when I arrived. I stayed anyway, hoping to find you," she adjusted her black sunglasses with one hand. "I need to talk to you."

Holly didn't budge. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't knock those glasses off and mesmer your memories away?"

"Because I need your help."

* * *

The moon glowed in full splendour, round and perfect away from the diminishing city lights. The air was sweet and crisp, country air. Holly allowed herself a brief moment to enjoy the tranquility, then turned her attention back to her current predicament. The clone was perched on the boulder across from her, expression perfectly guileless. Holly idly fiddled with her buzz baton, wondering what the girl was thinking.

"So..."

"Galatea," the girl supplied.

"Galatea," Holly repeated. "An equal trade off of information. You first. Did Artemis send you?"

The girl shook her head. "No. He does not know I'm even here."

Holly raised an eyebrow as Galatea elaborated. "He's distracted enough to believe that I'm doing a specimen collection. Had he known the truth, I'd hate for him to do something foolish."

"Hmm," Holly scrutinised the girl in the darkness, trying to detect any signs of a lie. "What does he know?"

"He knows only the basics; that the Amalgam Subversives are trying to establish a fairy and mud man connection, that their intially honourable intentions have been corrupted. He knows nothing else."

"And what do _you_ know?"

"That they killed someone very dear to him and he wants revenge," Galatea paused. "Who was she?"

Holly sighed. "Her name was Minerva Paradizo. It's a long story, they met years and years ago when they were pretty much just kids. She was probably the only one who could ever equal him, which I guess is why they got along so well. They were engaged when it happened. An explosion, pretty amateurish really; a nitro-glycerine bomb, but no one survived. All that was left was a flaming message in gnomish, more or less telling the LEP to back off."

For a few moments they were both silent. Holly wished she knew more. About why Minerva happened to be there, what exactly she'd known that could have forced the A.S to use her as an example. She wondered how this... girl, Galatea, must be feeling about it all. How Artemis could even bear to look at her every day.

"Am I like her?"

Galatea's quiet question interrupted her thoughts. She stared back, at this girl who was an exact replica of Minerva.

"You look exactly like her," Holly replied softly. "But no matter how good Artemis is at what he does, and no mistake he's very good, you aren't her."

"I'm not trying to be her."

Holly nodded, her wristband flashing urgently, summoning her back underground. "I better go. It was nice meeting you Galatea." The elf began to disappear from view. "Please take care of him."

* * *

_Minerva Paradizo. _

_She was a child prodigy, just like Artemis. From searching through the LEP records again, I found that they have an extensive file on her, from the demon incident. I search for her, for records of her achievements, for traces of her existence. I become obsessed with knowing everything about her. She had been intelligent, to be sure. But I wanted to know what had drawn Artemis to her. Why had he loved her enough to put his life and the whole fairy race at risk? _

_For all the information I have on her deeds, her accomplishments, I know nothing of her personality. Was she scathing? Was she cheerful? Was she dependent? It is a strange sensation, this ignorance, what I suppose most people would consider disconcerting. It wouldn't have mattered to me, were it not for the fact that she was the reason Artemis was like this. I needed to know everything about her._

_I needed to become her. _


End file.
